Announcing
The birth of SEVEN brother and sisters to MeiMei Shearer. Four brothers and three sisters. So far, all are doing well. We're keeping our fingers crossed and prayers said for their mother Ria and the babies as well as Grandma Donna!
CONGRATULATIONS!!!
February 19, 2008
Have yet to describe the utter bafflement of both sons *singing* in harmony and *in tune*.
I knew Older Son could carry a tune, but I had NO idea the boy could *SING*. Younger son refused to sing for me until I held him down and made him holler 'uncle'. Even then he didn't really try.
But last Friday, all three kids are here, and the boys are in a big way, and they start singing. Daughter and I sat with our mouths open in wonder that these boys had this talent that we had no idea about. They just don't sing around the house.
Why? You might wonder. Well, I guess my songs were not their kind of music, and vice versa. They don't sing Barry Manilow.
HOWEVER, as spirits became higher, Younger Son was suddenly inspired to 'bust a move'. Not only can he sing, but the kid can dance.
So we're laughing as Sam is going through the "history of dance" (look it up on YouTube), when suddenly he began to sing *and* dance the old Brady Bunch Kids song that goes something like "Gonna keep on, keep on, keep on, keep on dancin' all through the night."
That was when he got his Bonus Points. Those of you who read Dark Humor know what I mean.
*whispers* Yes, it's Tuesday and Husband watched the first hour of American Idol before he just had to go to bed in order to get up to go to work.
February 17, 2008
Daughter is in a fizz because her vacuum cleaner began to smoke and was 'broken'.
Before purchasing a new one, I told her to turn it over and see what was wrapped around the cylinder.
And there was stuff, but it still wasn't "sucking" and hadn't been for weeks.
I told her to see if it was stopped up.
She pulled out a wad of cat hair.
Still not sucking.
I asked the Manly Men and Younger Son, who had already fixed said vacuum once said "Tell her to get a flat head screwdriver. I got the awfullest wads of her hair out."
About that time she pops up on IM with "OH MY GOSH, I got this huge wad of cat hair...." you can guess the rest.
Now, miraculously, the vacuum *sucks*.
But then she says...and this is the point of the entire story:
"*cackles* There is nothing a girl, her mother, and a phillips head screwdriver can't accomplish. This must be what men feel like when they learn to write their name in the snow with pee."
*headdesk*
February 14, 2008
Ah what a lovely Valentine's Day.
Youngest Son watched Princess Bride with me, a movie we both know well enough to say the dialogue.
"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You keel my father. Prepare to die."
"In con sthievable!"
Hubby brought a beautiful card and a DVD that he knew I'd want. I look forward to seeing it. He also cooked a nice steak and baked potato for dinner.
Then this evening, Oldest Son came in with a single red rose with a little baby's breath. Such a charmer he is.
I got a card from a dear friend.
Nice.
No grand gestures. No big displays.
But each person took *time* to let me know I meant something to them. Younger Son spent time watching a movie with me, Husband brought a beautiful card and a DVD that was *thoughtful*, Older Son brought a rose to his mama as well as (insert number here) girls. Friend made a trip to purchase card even though she hasn't felt well. Daughter is coming tomorrow.
Nice.
February 13th, 2008
I have married a fanboy. It's for certain. Husband stayed up past his bedtime *again* tonight to watch American Idol. I knew he'd do it, but set that as the test for you can usually set your clock by 8pm when he, like his Grandfather before him, goes to bed to listen to the radio until he falls asleep.
Personally, I was quite disappointed that the little boy with the tie and glasses didn't get in. Simon was right. He was special.
Ugh. Agreeing with Simon. Perhaps I need my head examined.
Well, I do see the neuro next week...
I'm married to an American Idol fanboy.
He will deny it to his dying breath, but in years past he always wanted to know who got kicked off because he always had to go to sleep before it was over.
Oh, he made the grumpy noises like "Oh crap I'm going to have to sit through a show like this again." Truly...he didn't say the words, but the noise *clearly* said it. But he always wanted to know who got kicked off.
Tonight, he sat up considerably past his bedtime and when one girl came on, he said, "That's the one who didn't get on last year because something screwed up with her Visa."
I looked at him incredulously as it all clicked in my brain. "HOW did you know she was the girl who didn't get on because of her Visa?"
"Because of her tattoo."
Oh please. Half of them are covered in tattoos.
I expect a fan blog dedicated to American Idol from Husband any day now.
He gave up and went to bed when his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer. He gets up very early to go to work.
I told him I felt certain he could catch what he'd missed on YouTube tomorrow.
In the meantime....now I know why he was annoyed when I quit watching Survivor....he always wanted to know who got kicked off there too....hmmmm
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Icy, cold, it's been one heck of a night for folks around here.
You know, snow is one thing, but ice is a whole other ball of wax. I'll drive in snow, but it would take an emergency of epic proportions for me to try to drive on ice.
When I was 18, I was going to take my calculus final, but Husband who was then Boyfriend had a flat and needed a ride.
I call him Boyfriend, but my dad called him That Boy for two years. We dated for four years before we married and my daddy didn't call him by his name for years. It was that daddy thing, you know?
I remember when we broke up once. (We broke up twice in that four years, each time for about 3 months. I broke up with him once and he with me once.). Anyway, Daddy heard me crying and came flying out of his bedroom in his underwear demanding to know what was wrong.
I remember wailing "He broke up with me!" My daddy went *flying* down the steps to the front door, and out the front door. I believe he was ready to beat the snot out of That Boy for making me cry. I'll never forget that as long as I live because Daddy's underwear was saggy in the butt and the excess material kinda swayed as he went running out the front door.
As it turns out, That Boy has turned out to be a Husband beyond compare.
However, this morning, he got the snot scared out of him.
Oldest Son has a friend named Chris who spends a good deal of time here. We like Chris. Happy to have him.
He spends the night sometimes and even has his own blanket. "Chris's blanket" that is in the hall closet for when he sleeps on the sofa.
Well, I'm not certain why it didn't occur to Husband that Chris would be staying here, considering that there was a Winter Weather Warning all over the tv when he went to bed.
But evidently at about 4 am when Husband came through the living room and turned on the light, he and Chris scared the crap out of one another. (chuckling)
I think from now on, we will have Chris put a note on the kitchen counter when he spends the night so we won't have such a surge of adrenaline for either.
Watching the weather and it appears that we have more freezing rain and snow coming.
I am certainly glad I don't have any place to go. (She said, as the saying about the best laid plans went through her head)
February 4, 2008
Husband is off to Dallas, completely unappreciative of the fact that he will soon be entering God's country.
I know what I'm talking about here. I was raised right outside of Dallas in an idyllic childhood setting. The tiny town of Ennis, Texas, less than an hour outside Dallas was a wonderful place to raise children.
I recall people being friendly, typical of Texans, of long summers in bare feet on sidewalks so hot it burned the bottoms of your feet so you just ran faster. Of trips to the crawdad hole with strips of bacon to catch crawdads, everyone working to catch that prize, the Granddaddy. The size of a very small lobster, on those few occasions that the Granddaddy was caught, you'd only get him halfway out of the water before he looked up and said, "those rascally kids" and dropped back into the water. Even if someone got him out of the water, we were all afraid to grab him. He *was* the Granddaddy because of his reputation. He might, after all, be able to bend over backwards and grab you.
We sat on the curb and popped tar bubbles with our thumbnails. The streets had small lines of tar in places and in the summer, the weather got hot enough to make air bubbles that we would pop, invariably putting tar under our thumbnails which had to wear off.
So Husband is headed to Dallas, completely unappreciative of where he is to be. I told him to bring me a Cowboys jersey and to take a moment to pay homage to the greatest quarterback of all time. Roger Staubach.
The man.